Harry Potter and the Half Baked Clam
by Wunterwaffen
Summary: This is an unusual story that takes place right after the HBP as if DH never happened. Dumbledore is dead, and Voldemort grows in power, so some of the higher-ups at Hogwarts decide to appeal to outsiders for help. But will it be enough? CHAPTER 3 ADDED!
1. Chapter 1

Aragorn stepped off the heaving ship, careful not to loose his footing. Behind him, Legolas, Gimli, and Gandalf also disembarked. Treebeard had decided not to come, although Gimli's suggestion that they use him as the mast seemed worthwhile.

A huge hairy man in came to greet them. In the lamplight, the king could see that his beard and hair were way out of control.

"You've come at last." His voice was deep. "And you would be…?" "I am Aragorn, king of Gondor. This is Gimli son of Gloin and Legolas of the woodland realm. And here behind us is Gandalf the White."

"I am Hagrid, the groundskeeper," said the man. "And what exactly is your reason for calling us here, _groundskeeper_," Gimli spat. Hagrid chuckled. "Feisty little dwarf, isn't he?" he said. "Well, it would be best for me to explain inside," he said.

They followed him along a narrow path that wound around to the front door of a large castle. "An impressive fortress you have here," said Gimli. "Actually," said Hagrid as he fumbled with the key, "It's a school: Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry." "Doesn't look like any school I've ever seen," said Gimli. "If anyone were to ask for my opinion, which I know they're not, I'd say this 'school' could withstand a siege of ten thousand Uruk-Hai for a year or more!"

Hagrid laughed. "Well it could have that function I suppose," he said as he led them inside.

--------------------

Voldemort veered to the side, just in time to avoid running into a tree. Wiping a gash on his forehead that trickled black blood into his face, he continued running deeper into the forest. No one had ever found him here, NO ONE, and he was so shocked that someone or something finally had that he didn't know what to do.

All he knew was that he'd been outside doing maintenance on his little "hideout" when all of a sudden he'd been grabbed from behind and slammed into part of the wall, cutting his forehead. Dropping him, the thing grabbed him by the nape of the neck and slammed him into a nearby tree. Whatever this thing was, it was strong. It dropped him again and as it reached down to pick him up once more, he thought he could make out a huge bipedal form with a spiked head and shoulders and a huge hand reaching down. Around the index finger of the thing, still shrouded in darkness, there was some strange writing that glowed red. As the thing grabbed him, he could feel the heat radiating from it.

"What do you want with me?!" he choked. "Wouldn't you like to know?" a soft creepy voice leered. "I am one who has traveled far to come here. I don't want any competitors. I'm giving you one warning to stay out of my hair while I'm in this country, and if you mess me up, I'll make you wish you'd never been born. Understood?!"

Voldemort nodded. "Wh-wh-what d-does that writing on your finger say?" he asked. In response light suddenly flooded from the thing, revealing a huge person in a suit of the most intimidating armor he'd ever seen. But now that there was light, he could see that the writing in question was inscribed on a gold ring on the person's index finger.

Turning off the light, he said, "The letters are Elvish, but the language is my language, the Black Speech of Mordor. Normally, I wouldn't speak it so as not to offend your tender ears, but since you, being a dark wizard and all, don't have tender ears (in fact, you're probably the type who blurts out the f-word every four seconds when he's pissed off), I'll recite it for you. Ash nazg durbatuluk, ash nazg gimbatul, ash nazg thrakatuluk, ash burzgum ishi krimpatul."

He paused. "In the common tongue it says, One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them. One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them."

"Interesting," said Voldemort. "But who are you?"

"I am Sauron, a Dark Lord just like you," he said. "Although," he added in a condescending tone, "what exactly you're 'lord' of I have no idea."

"Nothing yet," Voldemort admitted. "Just a few hired hands I call death eaters." "Hmm," said Sauron. "Perhaps you can be of some use after all." he put an arm around Voldemort's shoulder and gestured toward the row of trees in front of them. "There are over four million people in this country," he said. "And those teeming masses exist for the sole purpose of lifting the few exceptional people onto their shoulders. You, me, your nemesis Harry Potter, we're exceptional."

"Don't bring him up," Voldemort grumbled. "Though we rarely fight each other personally, he beats me every time we square off. My death eaters and double agents in Hogwarts have proven next to useless against him." "He's certainly very dangerous," said Sauron. "Compounded by the fact that he is now protected by several new allies, including a certain Gandalf the White."

At that Voldemort sat bolt upright. He'd heard of Gandalf, and the last thing he needed was to ride herd on _that_ psychopath.

"I want Potter," he said nervously, "but not if it means fighting old Mithrandir. He could probably turn me into swiss cheese."

This seemed to amused Sauron. "Very good, caution," he said. "And you're right: you wouldn't stand a chance against Gandalf." "Well," said Voldemort with a sigh, "the one silver lining is that old _dumbledud_ is dead." "Do you think Snape and Malfoy could take out Potter or any

of Gandalf's companions?" said Sauron.

Deciding not to ask how Sauron knew about his doings, Voldemort said, "No." Sauron leaned back. "Then perhaps their usefulness has run it's course."

Voldemort nodded. "We'll have to dispose of them quickly and make sure they don't survive, lest they turn on us." "Don't worry," said Sauron. "I'll have an old friend of mine deal with Snape. The Nine will dispose of Malfoy."

"The Nine?" said Voldemort. "The Nazgul," he replied. "He will be no match for them." "Then we will move against Potter?" Voldemort asked. "Certainly," Sauron replied.

Voldemort leaned back and grinned. _Soon we two will destroy Hogwarts._

_Soon._


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter 2_

_Hagrid led them thru many rooms and corridors, up several staircases, until they came to a small to medium sized room that had been the late headmaster's office._

_Inside the office, several young people were engaged in conversation. As the door swung open, they all turned and stared at the intruders._

_One of the three students was a young male with a full head of black hair and a pair of oversized spectacles. He was relatively young, maybe 18 or so, wearing a black robe with a white collar and a jagged scar on his forehead. As Aragorn stared at him, he had the impression that there was more to this young man than met the eye._

_The second of the three strangers was also male, approximately the same age as the first, but with a full, lush head of bright orange hair that almost seemed to glow and freckles on his face. Dressed in the same robe as the first young man, he had a sturdy build, but seemed more curious and less grave than the black-haired one._

_The third and final student was a girl with brown hair. Although dressed in the same robe as the other two, she was probably more slender underneath the robe, with bright brown eyes that matched her hair._

"_Beggin' yer pardon, master Harry," said Hagrid, "But there's some newcomers here I'd like ya teh meet."_

"_Of course, no problem Hagrid," said the black-haired one._

_Turning to Aragorn, Hagrid said, "This here is King Aragorn, son of Arathorn, ruler of a place called Gondor far from here. Yer 'ighness, this is six-year student Harry Potter, and these here are Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger." Harry just said "Greetings," but Ron stepped forward and said, "Pleased to meet you." while shaking Aragorn's hand vigorously. Hermione said nothing._

"_This here is Legolas of the woodland realm," said Hagrid, gesturing at him._

"_An elf?" said Harry raising an eyebrow. Legolas nodded. "And this here is Gandalf, a wizard just like you."_

_Gimli growled. "And of course, no one so much as notices the dwarf." "Maybe if you were taller I'd have noticed you," said Ron grinning. "Yeah, I hear that a lot," said Gimli._

"_What are you doing here anyway?" said Hermione, who hadn't said a word up to this point. Clearly she did not trust the newcomers._

_As Hagrid slipped out of the room, Aragorn said, "We're here by request of Hagrid to deal with the threat of a certain dark wizard he says has been tormenting these lands," said Aragorn. "Well let's just have his head and be done with it," said Gimli. "These are no pushovers we have here," said Harry. "Voldemort is the greatest threat this world has ever faced. He's not the sort you can fight with those crude weapons."_

_Those were the wrong choice of words. "CRUDE WEAPONS?!" shouted Gimli, raising his axe and stomping forward. "I'll give you crude weapons, you-" Aragorn put his hand on the dwarf's shoulder. "Stand down, Gimi. This is not the time nor the place. We shall rest here tonight and show off our 'crude weapons' tomorrow." _

_Clang! Cling! Cling! Clang!_ The sword of Gryffindor flashed in the sunlight, colliding with the much larger sword, Anduril.

It had been two days since Gandalf and the others had arrived at Hogwarts and been introduced to Harry, Ron, and Hermione. They had gotten along quite well with them, and Aragorn especially drew their attention.

Now Gandalf sat with a pipe full of longbottom leaf, with Gimli sitting next to him. Aragorn meanwhile, was training Harry in a duel on the Quidditch field, it being a large open space and all. On the other side of the field, several students were practicing spells. Gimli watched them and snorted. "Spellcasters and broomsticks!" he muttered. "I wish I could muster up a legion of dwarves, fully armed and filthy." "Somehow I don't think they'd be appreciated," said Gandalf.

On their side of the field, Harry was getting better. The night before, without telling anyone, Aragorn had taken the sword of Gryffindor and used some raw steel to reinforce it. Otherwise, against such a blade as Anduril, it wouldn't have lasted more than four seconds without shattering, breaking, or chipping so badly, you couldn't cut soft cheese with it.

After they were done, Aragorn was going to teach Ron, but Gandalf stepped in. "You've had you're time, Aragorn. I'll take over." Despite Ron's incredulity, Gandalf led him onto the field and handed him an old sword that had once belonged to Eomer of Rohan.

"You make the first move," said Gandalf. "You know this won't be fair, old one," said Ron. "Humor me," said Gandalf.

Ron lunged forward without a word, raising his sword and bringing it down on… thin air. Next moment he felt Glamdring slam into his back, and again into his stomach, knocking the air out of him. The formerly prideful Ron found himself lying on the ground panting for breath while the "old one" stood over him.

"Oh dear, said Gandalf. "I see the results of your training." Angered by the sarcastic tone in his voice, Ron jumped up and brought his sword down on his tormentor. Thud after thud echoes across the field as the two force fields covering the blades met. (In order to prevent Ron or his sword from being hurt, both the edges were guarded with magic.) "Good."

Thinking he was home free, Ron attacked more wildly. All it got him were welts and bruises. "Don't (_wap!_) get (_wap!_) over(_wap!_)confident!" _Wap!_ Gandalf put the tip of his sword against Ron's throat. "It won't be a weak old man you're fighting next time," he said. "And it won't be with guarded edges either."

Ron limped over to the bleachers and sat down, sulking. Hearing something, he looked over to see Harry laughing. "What's wrong with you?" he said irritably. "Nothing," Harry said. "It's funny to see a strong young man like you getting the crap beaten out of him by an old one."

Growling, Ron got up and headed to his room.

Harry watched him go. "Well Gandalf, looks like you gave him a lesson in humility." "I did indeed, Harry," said Gandalf. "One he'll not soon forget."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Hermione sighed as she walked the grounds at Hogwarts.

It was 4:35 am, not quite dawn, and Hermione was sad and lonely. Harry and Ron were fascinated by the newcomers, and had already formed a bond with them. As a result, she was left out in the cold. Gandalf and the others were all men, there was no female that she could relate to. So she was left alone, deserted by Harry and Ron.

_It's not fair,_ she moaned to herself as she walked off the grounds into the dark forest. _Why do they get to have all the attention? Harry and Ron mooch off the newcomers and leave me alone. Why? They didn't help Harry beat Voldemort four times. They didn't comfort him and Ron when slimy Snape killed Dumbledore. What's so special about them?_ And so on and so forth.

The sad lovely brunette grew more and more depressed as she walked deeper into the forest. She thought to herself that she must be the most unfortunate girl in the world. Her depression grew worse and worse as the minutes ticked by.

Just as she was seriously considering suicide, Hermione came upon a horrible sight. A famillar-looking body lay in the thick carpet of leaves. "Draco?" She rushed over to investigate and was horrified by what she saw.

Draco Malfoy was dead. Horribly dead. Slain by a single sword thrust, his blood covered the ground and his body lay on it's back, his face frozen in a moment of pure terror. His wand was still clasped in his cold, dead hand.

Trembling, Hermione pried the lifeless fingers apart and took the wand, then bolted toward the safety of Hogwarts.

"Holy crap," said Ron. "I knew he'd come to a bad end one day," said Harry, staring down pitilessly at the corpse. "Good riddance to another death eater," said Ron grinning. "Well, let's just throw his carcass to the wargs and be done with it," Gimli growled.

Ignoring Hermione's exclamation of revulsion at the idea, Harry said, "I don't think there's any wargs around here Gimli." He and the others had learned all about wargs by this time.

Suddenly, a great light sprang up in the distance, bathing the trees nearby with light. At the same time there was a rather unsettling sound, as if something big had growled. "What in hellfire?" said Ron. Then they heard another sound, less menacing but equal in volume. "AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Severous Snape was running toward Harry and company with his cloak badly singed and his face carrying an expression of sheer terror. He didn't even notice the others. He just ran.

And for good reason, for not ten yards behind him in a huge cloud of smoke and flame, was… "Ai! Ai! A balrog!" Legolas cried. "Durin's bane!" said Gimli raising his axe. Harry and the others scattered as Snape came screaming and wailing with the flaming demon hot on his heels. (Literally!)

Hiding behind a tree, Harry saw.

The balrog closed in. Snape continued screaming, but his wail was cut off by a fiery descending foot.

CRUNCH!

The balrog paused, turned around, and went back the way he came, soon vanishing from their sight.

No sooner did they come out of hiding that Harry burst out laughing. "Hahahaha!!!!! Did you see the look on his face right before the thing's foot came down on top of him?!!!! Hahahaha!!!!!!

Ron grinned. "Tut tut, fame clearly isn't everything," he said, quoting a line Snape himself had once used to insult Harry.

All three of them laughed heartily. "I think we should head back to Hogwarts," Aragorn said finally. Gandalf and the others need to know about this." "Of course," said Harry.

So they left, with Harry, Ron, and Hermione still giggling over the rather unpleasant comeuppance of the half-blood prince, or as Harry henceforth referred to him, "the Half-Baked Clam!"


End file.
